He had always wanted her.
Impressive, that - Graverobber never wanted. Oh sure, he could take just fine - any junkie in the city could tell you that - but being a whore was part of his job description, completely inevitable; he forced it, because he had to. But for him to actually want - to look at someone and feel actual lust? Never. He didn't. He couldn't. It wasn't even about the people around him, he simply didn't have the capacity for it - that he couldn't feel lust was a fact of nature, a rule.
Just like the rule that all junkies look as repulsive and fucked-up on the outside as they are on the inside. Just like the rule that anything Rotti would kill Graverobber for made Graverobber feel content with being alive.
Just like every other fucking rule she broke.
God, how he hated her.
He dealt with the scum of the earth every day - it had stopped bothering him before he'd even come to Italy to deal in Rotti's backyard. Most junkies knew their place: They were dependent on him, subservient to him; he was their king, their master. They'd lick the grave soil off his boots for a hit without hesitation and they knew it - even when they tried to act like they had any sort of worth, a mere mention of the blue glow and they were reduced to less than animals. They were pitiful, really. They disgusted him, sure, but he didn't hate them - in the end, they were the victims.
But her? God damn it, her…She expected him to lick her boots if she asked him to - him and anyone else who crossed her path. Worship me, she told everyone she laid eyes on, I am your queen, bow down to me, do my bidding, grovel at my feet. Her demeanor was high and mighty and contemptuous, even when she was desperate for a hit - she sneered at him for asking to be paid, as though her attention, her very presence, ought to be payment enough for him. She looked down on him, treated him like scum, even as she relied on him, and damn it, she had no right to disrespect him at all, the disgusting scalpel slut.
Absolute control over oneself, in terms of both mind and body, was a necromerchant's most important and valuable tool - it easily meant the difference between life and death on a daily basis - and if there was anything that threatened to break Graverobber's self-control someday, it was her: No matter how irksome or downright despicable she acted, he couldn't tell her how much he hated her, couldn't put her in her place - antagonizing a paying customer was against the rules of his business, and even if it hadn't been, he couldn't risk driving her away, because she was his ultimate rebellion. He should have loved that the spawn of Rotti Largo leaked GeneCo's funds into his pockets in exchange for the drug he broke GeneCo's laws to harvest, and he did love it, but the cost? Damn it…sometimes, he thought too damn high.
And yet, he wanted her. He hated it, even hated himself for it, but fucking hell, how he wanted her. She was as gorgeous on the outside as she was wretched on the inside, and even though he knew her body was as fake as it was beautiful…oh, how he dreamed of that fake perfect body pressed against his. The fantasy tormented him whether he was awake or asleep, constantly, relentlessly; from the moment he'd met her five years after setting up on the island, his job as a whore had become so much easier, because all he had to do was close his eyes and imagine her and damn, it was good.
He knew she knew it. Of course she knew it - why else would she spend several minutes taunting him every time she came to see him, no matter how pressed for time she claimed to be? Oh, it was never direct, she never said anything to really suggest what was on his mind; but every movement she made…the little dances she did for him, just subtly enough that she could say he was imagining it if he tried to call her out on it…the tone of her voice as she spoke, the gleam in her eye and the way she smirked at him even as she demanded a hit, mocked him, told him he was scum…God, how she made him want.
The worst part was that he didn't really have to put up with her shit. Sure, it was against the rules of his business to ever antagonize a paying customer, but the rules could be bent in certain situations, and she was antagonizing him in the first place; and sure, it might risk driving her away, but she was an addict, and he was the only necromerchant on Sanitarium Island. He could simply refuse to play her game, not spitefully, just practically. Instead of let slip any indication of his hatred for her, though, he played along, let her taunt him, let her treat him like dirt, and was never anything but warm and polite in return, because every time she came to him, he couldn't help but hope - pray - that maybe this time, maybe this time, she'd finally let him touch her.
But she never did.
No…The real worst part was that he would lick her boots, if she promised to fuck him right after.
For the most part, he blamed his job for his obsession. After all, being a necromerchant wasn't just a profession, it was an entire way of life - it dictated everything he did, every aspect of his day, all of it was a ritual he had to follow until he died or got too old; and if he did live long enough to get too old to do his job, he'd only be able to become a necroman, a go-between for the necromerchants and the rest of the world that existed so that dealers didn't even have to show themselves to buy food. And after that? Well, the job hadn't been around quite long enough for anyone to have lived that long yet, but Graverobber had a feeling it would involve eating a gun of a very different sort to the one he was used to firing. He had nothing to look forward to in life. All he had was his job, his rebellion - every moment he spent as a necromerchant on Sanatarium Island was the closest he could get to spitting in Rotti's face; and sure, that was more than enough to keep him content, but it wasn't something for him to want, it was simply a thing that was.
Everyone needs something to look forward to, some dream, some vision of a future - it's simply human nature. Graverobber hated the way the world was and wished, deep down, that he could have seen a world not run by Rotti and GeneCo, it was true, but he knew that it was a waste of time to hope for the world to escape from the hellhole it had become, and he'd given up on praying for some spark of humanity to kindle a new flame somewhere in the world long ago. He had no dreams of the end of Rotti and GeneCo, no fantasy of a time when anything but sex and the pursuit of genetic perfection would mean shit to anyone, no vision of a day when Repo-men wouldn't stalk the streets and make them run with the blood of those who lost their usefulness to the monster who ruled the globe. Even when he heard that Blind Mag was going to retire from GeneCo despite her contract in blood, he felt no hope - the damage had been done, and the noble act would go unrecognized, incomprehensible to everyone else in the world, he knew.
The only thing he had to look forward to, to hope for, was…her.
Until, one night, it wasn't.
The night of Blind Mag's last opera, he was out robbing graves for the glowing blue rot that turned humans into vermin, when by chance, he saw a young girl. A pretty girl, really - clearly not an addict of any kind; he wondered how she had gotten there, for she seemed lost, even though graveyards were impossible to get into this time of night without a lot of effort. More than that, though, she was terrified. When she saw him, her eyes widened with fear - not the fear of meeting a criminal with a bounty on his head, but the fear of something unknown to her. And that was impossible - everyone knew what necromerchants looked like and what they did, necromerchants were unmistakeable, uniformed, for shit's sake!
But she didn't know. It was made very clear by her wide, terrified eyes, her shaky breathing, her hands partway raised in front of her face as though to shield herself from the very sight of him: She had no idea who or what he was. He drew some Zydrate from a corpse as she looked on, terrified and fascinated and utterly confused, and even when he held it up to her, showed her what he was holding, there was no spark of recognition or understanding in her eyes. Somehow, impossibly, Rotti's poison hadn't corrupted her, hadn't even touched her, even though she lived in the same goddamn city as the bastard.
She was innocent.
And if there could be an innocent person here, on Sanatarium Island…
Oh, how inspiring that sight had been. How thrilled and empowered Graverobber had felt, to know that he had been wrong, that there were still human beings in the world, that he wasn't alone. Just to show off to this wondrous girl, this glimmer of hope that had finally answered his secret prayers, he finally did what he'd wanted to do for over a decade: He stood up straight and shouted at the top of his lungs, right there in the middle of the graveyard, drawing the attention of every guard out there, daring Rotti's minions to try and stop him. Of course, instead of impressed, the girl had been scared nearly to death. But that was even better. Not only was she not corrupted, she was somehow so pure and innocent that she didn't even realize that she wasn't corrupted - she didn't consciously rebel, she was simply free.
And in being so, she set him free, too.
So when Amber Sweet came around later that night, sneering at Graverobber that way she always did, for the first time, he was able to meet her eyes coldly and unfeelingly, without any desire. He had something better to desire, something better to believe in, now. He had a better dream.
Her expression faltered for only a split second, but Graverobber saw it, and it thrilled him. Then she recovered.
"What's the matter, Graverobber?" she taunted. "Can't get it up if the girl's breathing?" She walked over to stand in front of him and snapped a whip in her hand suggestively.
He just looked at her with contempt and disgust.
She ignored his brush-off and started her little dance, always just too subtle for anyone to call her out on trying to seduce him but suggestive all the same, and started her usual plethora of high-and-mighty demands.
"Z me," she commanded; "I need a hit, and I'm late, so hurry - don't keep my surGENs waiting-"
"Bitch, pay me," Graverobber spat, cutting her off. Normally, he would have let her talk herself out, waited his turn - that was the game, and he knew his part. Tonight, though, he wasn't going to play it. Never again was he going to play it.
She was squatting when he interrupted her, showing off her crotch, and without missing a beat, she started crawling towards him, both showing off her tits and painting a picture of climbing on top of someone to fuck them in the least subtle gesture he'd ever seen her make. "Later," she said huskily.
He didn't bat an eye. "Okay," he said coolly, walking away, "I'll see you later." Her guards, whom Graverobber forgot even existed half the time, stood in the way of the direction he wanted to go, blocking him, but he just turned around to go the other way - he knew the alleys well enough, he could get to where he was going whether they let him take the most direct route or not.
"Where're you going?" Amber exclaimed, standing up and giving him a little shove he didn't know how to interpret. "Stay here!"
He rolled his eyes and shook his head, walking away without another word or glance at her. Not antagonizing her, as per the rule of his business, but not putting up with her shit, either.
Then she kept talking.
"There's ways for me to pay, dear, other than dough."
It took a moment for Graverobber's brain to process her words. When it did, he slowed to a stop, his eyes wide. Surely, she couldn't mean…?
He knew it was a bad idea, but he couldn't resist looking back at her, just to see for sure that she didn't mean it. The sight that met his eyes made him feel like he'd been punched in the gut.
She'd given her coat and whip to one of her bodyguards, leaving her in nothing but a corset that was just a little too tight and thigh-high boots. She cupped her breasts, then slowly rubbed her way down her body to her hips, her thighs, forcing him to follow the movement with his eyes and look at her.
"I want a hit of Z," she told him huskily, "and we're not talking for free."
She started using her bodyguards to show off her body, making one of them touch her, then touching the other, teasing Graverobber with images of what he could do with her. Graverobber wanted to look away, but he couldn't. He was mesmerized - he'd dreamed of this for five years, how could he look away?
"I'm thinking more of a game of give-and-take," Amber went on, still working her bodyguards, her tone oh so very seductive. "And baby, I'll give 'til I break."
Graverobber wasn't conscious of the fact that he'd started walking back over to her, drawn like a moth to a flame. He wasn't conscious of anything, really - her voice, her words, drowned out rational thought, and the sight of her…Damn, why did she have to be so sexy?
"I may be a bitch, but I ain't nobody's fool - this bitch knows the rules," she continued, using her guards to support her while she showed off the most private part of her body.
Graverobber was just repulsed enough to stop moving towards her like a fucking magnet, but he couldn't turn away; he crouched down by the side of the alley and took his pack off his back mindlessly. The customer chooses the form of payment, after all…If she was offering payment, he had to accept it…Had to, no choice, not his fault…
Now she stepped away from her guards and stalked across the space he'd left between them, every step suggestive, before getting on the ground and showing off her body on her own, running a hand all along her leg and then flexing her entire body.
"I'll let you fuck my soul for a hit of that glow," she told him.
Your soul is a vile and disgusting thing that I'd rather have nothing to do with, Graverobber thought, too entranced to say it out loud. Your body, on the other hand…
"So come on," she said, her voice getting more assertive. "Climb on." She pushed herself up, then lunged at him, shoving him hard against the wall. "Man up!"
Before he knew what was happening, she grabbed him by the shirt, pulled him to his feet, and somehow twisted and pulled so that her body was sandwiched between him and the wall, her back to him. She was still talking, but his brain didn't have enough room to process her words, because she stuck out her ass and rubbed it hard against his arousal and god damn it, when had his cock gotten so hard? He had to move up and down with her slightly, he was so stiff. She tilted her head back, and he leaned his head into her neck helplessly, panting, breathing in her heady scent, his hands reaching down to grab her perfect ass and pull her harder against him, this little tease wasn't nearly enough…!
She spun around to face him, forcing him to release his grip, and he put his hands on either side of her against the wall as she arched her back, pressing her groin against his, still saying something seductive. He saw her glance at something to his side for a split second, and he turned his head to see one of her guards standing there, a whip in his hand. He turned his head in the other direction, and there was the other one. He then looked at Amber questioningly, his lust cooling for a moment, replaced by wariness.
She smiled wickedly. "Oh, don't mind them," she told Graverobber, "they won't bother us." She looked at them, still smirking nastily. "Boys, give us some privacy, won't you?" she told them.
They turned around and marched away down either side of the alley, turning the nearest corners and out of sight.
"There," Amber purred, commanding Graverobber's attention once more as she placed her hands on his chest. "Not only will they not bother us, they'll make sure no one else can come along and bother us, either." He felt her hands slide downwards before he realized that she was getting on her knees. "You have me all to yourself," she told him huskily as her hands reached his belt. "We can do this however you like…You can take me any way you want…" She started unbuckling his belt and pants. He mindlessly took off his coat and threw it aside, it was too hot, he couldn't breathe. "You know you want to take me," Amber added as she unzipped his jeans, taking a tiny bit of the strain off his aching cock.
He looked down her upturned face, making eye contact, and all of a sudden, out of nowhere, a very different face flashed in his mind's eye momentarily, one that had looked up at him with fear instead of lust. He remembered the girl in the graveyard, the new hope he had found. He blinked, and the face he saw was Amber's again, but he hesitated.
You don't have to do this, said his conscience. She doesn't know that you have to take whatever payment your customers offer, and the rules aren't set in stone. There's a better world, there's more out there than this, you don't have to give in. You know you're better than this, you're above her, you don't have to be her whore.
If you do this, the voice in his head went on, you won't deserve the better world you glimpsed tonight. You know better than to succumb to Amber's dance as though this is all there is. If you do this anyway, even knowing the truth, you'll be the scum she always implied you were. You'll be vile, rotten, worthless - you won't be able to live with yourself, the most disgusting person you've ever known, even worse than her, because you know better. Don't do this…
"What's the matter, Graverobber?" Amber taunted, wriggling against him slightly, the very movement of her lips as she spoke deliberately seductive.
And Graverobber, who prided himself in his self-control, snapped.
He put his hands around her neck and dropped to his knees all at once. No, he couldn't resist, not after five years of torture, not even knowing that there was something better worth living for, he couldn't pass this up, this wasn't a dream, this was real and happening and he could not walk away.
"Take me!" Amber gasped, tilting her head to the side as he brushed her hair behind her shoulder with one hand, still gripping the side of her neck with the other. He couldn't miss the triumph in her voice - she knew he was helpless - but damn it, he was beyond caring. "I can take it, baby!" she taunted.
Acting purely on instinct - he'd never wanted like this, never done anything like this - Graverobber placed his tongue against the bare flesh of Amber's shoulder and quickly licked his way up her neck, not even noticing the surgical stitches around her collarbone as his tongue skipped over them. Sweet hell, she tasted good, like…like something he'd forgotten, something that tickled at a lost memory of another life, but something delicious, something sweet, true to her name.
"I don't care where you put it," Amber told him, breathless now, telling him that she was enjoying this too, a fact that stoked Graverobber's desire all the more; "why don't you surprise me?"
Holding her against him like this, tasting her…wasn't enough.
Panting, he put his mouth by her ear. "Dance for me first," he growled.
Because if he was going to sacrifice every last bit of dignity and self-respect he had left, then he was damn well going to make sure it was worth it.
She laughed softly and leaned away, arching her back so far that she rose to her feet, bending straight again in an impressive display of gymnastic ability that Graverobber knew of only too well but wanted to see more of - this was the first time he was allowed to truly enjoy it, and he knew it would probably be the last, so he was going to milk it for all it was worth.
She started showing off her body, every position she could twist into that would turn him on all the more, every movement that would get him to look closely at her and want. She was impressively flexible, really, though he'd already seen more than enough over the years to know that; but this time, he sometimes reached out and touched her, giving in to impulses he had always internalized before, almost taking part in her gymnastic display. Sometimes she'd even look at him as he grabbed at her and grin wickedly, flexing whatever part of her he had ahold of, reinforcing his desires. "Come on," she taunted, "work me."
He didn't know if he'd had enough, but he couldn't wait any longer, the throbbing in his cock was too painful, and as her movements took her onto her back, he started to get on top of her-
And out of nowhere, she kicked him hard in the side, the movement so unexpected it sent him tumbling to the ground away from her as she scrambled to her feet. He looked up at her, not understanding, and she smirked at him. "Come on, you know you like it naughty," she goaded.
He didn't know what she meant, but he got to his feet…
"Oh, naughty boy," Amber teased, "take me! And I ain't askin-"
And suddenly, somehow, he knew, and he lunged at her, just as she jumped at him, wrapping her legs around his waist, and slammed her against the wall, pressing his body against hers.
"Come on," she gasped as he reached one hand down to yank the remaining cloth that separated them out of the way. He guided his fully-freed cock between her legs quickly, grasped her hips, and thrust upward into her as hard as he could.
Pleasure slammed through his body, unlike anything he could possibly have ever dreamed. He cried out as she gasped and arched against him, barely noticing her movement. He lifted her so he could pull out, then rammed into her again, barely able to breathe for the incredible rush he was getting. In that moment, as he thrust into her again and her hands fell to grip his shoulders, it was worth it, anything was worth it; he felt no shame or remorse.
He only felt her.
And fucking her against the wall was fine and good, but he needed to drive into her, to pound into her, needed gravity on his side as he took everything he could. Still inside her, he spun away from the wall so that he'd have some space. He couldn't help but look up at her as he did so, and the wicked smirk she gave him was almost unbearable. He got down slowly, first to his knees, then leaning forward, taking care not to crack her skull against the concrete; she took her hands off him and held her arms out behind her back to brace herself, and he took her all the way down to the water-covered ground.
Had he had one less iota of self-control, he would have lasted two, maybe three more thrusts before climaxing; as it was, he was just barely able to grit his teeth and force each burst of pleasure into submission as he fucked Amber roughly. He needed to make this last, to take as long as possible, he couldn't let it end soon, it was his one chance - he was trading his soul for this, for fuck's sake! But it felt so good, it was so difficult to pace himself, to force it back…It took so much effort to do so that he didn't really get why it was so difficult until Amber tilted her head up and pressed her lips against his for a moment. And then he understood.
The problem was that she was fucking him right back.
When they offered their bodies to pay for Zydrate, junkies would basically just lie still and let their dealer do whatever to them, but they never actually put any effort into it themselves - after all, sex wasn't even what they wanted. But Amber? Her legs were wrapped around his waist, her heels digging into his back; her body arched against him, her hips rising to meet his with every thrust; and she gasped and moaned with pleasure, hot and wet and tight as he slid in and out of her. He really shouldn't have been surprised, he would later reflect - if even three-fourths of the rumors about her were true, she'd fuck literally anything on two legs for no reason whatsoever.
Unfortunately, it made enjoying this and making it last extremely difficult. If he could just get her to stop moving…!
It wasn't an idea that came to him, merely a reflex: When a junkie desperate enough to pay for a hit with sex got too uncomfortable to continue due to a sheer lack of actually being into it, the sight of a vial of Zydrate could completely immobilize them. As a rule, junkies didn't want sex, they wanted Zydrate, and while Amber was a slut, surely she'd be just as entranced by the sight of the glow…wouldn't she?
Well, at any rate, it was worth a try, he couldn't hold on much longer like this…
Graverobber pulled back, not out all the way but enough to get Amber's attention, and reached for his belt and pulled out a vial of Zydrate. Amber looked at him, and he moved back over her, holding out the vial as though to give it to her. Her eyes caught on the glowing drug and held, and she reached to grab it without hesitation. Just before her fingers caught it, though, he pulled it back, just out of her grasp. She tried to grab it again, and he quickly raised it high, out of her reach.
She stared at the vial being held tauntingly above her. There was silence for a moment, save for their heavy breathing.
"Now hold still, damn it!" Graverobber growled.
But before he could resume, Amber's eyes shifted from the vial to him. She gave him a wide grin, almost laughing, then suddenly sat up into him, wrapped her arms around his head, and crushed her lips against his.
Fuck. Just like every other fucking rule…
She ground her hips against his slowly, slightly, causing just enough friction over his cock to make him shiver, as she claimed his mouth, hard. Acting purely on reflex, he kissed her back, matching her forcefulness, his free hand tangling in her raven hair, still somehow having enough sense not to lower the hand that held up the vial of Zydrate. Damn, she tasted good! And the feeling of her lips against his…It was strange, his lips almost felt like they hurt, but it was a good hurt, and he wanted more…
Graverobber was so deep in Amber's kiss that he didn't notice when one arm released its grip on his head, didn't sense the hand that slowly traced its way up his upraised arm, didn't feel her fingers intertwining with his around the vial of Zydrate, until with a final jerk, she yanked the vial out of his hand, breaking the kiss at the same time to give him a triumphant grin. Graverobber's arm came down quickly to stop her from getting away, though he didn't know whether he was going to try to take back the vial or just grab onto her and force her to finish "paying" him.
Then, suddenly, Amber set the little glass vial on the ground beside them, then gave it a small flick with the tip of her finger, causing it to roll away from them until gently hitting the wall of the alley with a soft clink!
Graverobber stared at the cast-aside vial of drugs, utterly bewildered, then looked at Amber again. She gave him the nastiest, most devilish smile he'd ever seen on her (which was saying something)…and then, simultaneously, they both forcefully crashed their bodies and lips together and resumed fucking, this time even harder.
It was with some reserve of inner strength that Graverobber hadn't known he'd possessed that he managed to continue fighting his release, even as they began to fuck with an animalistic intensity, clawing and biting at each other, gasping against each others' mouths as though each hoped to inhale the other, him thrusting into her so hard and deep he'd surely make her bleed. It was mindless and incredible and nearly drowned him in ecstasy, but he managed to hold on somehow.
Then, all of a sudden, Amber pulled her mouth away from him and screamed. Graverobber felt her entire body spasm, and her inner muscles began to ripple around his cock rhythmically. He knew what that meant, even if it was something he'd only barely heard of.
And it was with that that he absolutely could not take it anymore; he thrust into her one last time, and came.
Sheer bliss crashed through him like a tidal wave, driving away everything - any thoughts or feelings there might have been in his head, his memories, his personality, his use of his five external senses, even his sense of time and space were completely wiped away, leaving nothing but pleasure that went beyond 'so intense it hurt'. He didn't hear or feel himself roar his release, didn't feel Amber crawl out from under him, didn't feel the hard concrete beneath him or the half-inch of water he was left lying in.
He had no idea, no way of knowing, how long it lasted - it could have been a second or a century - but eventually, the incredible sensation began to fade and allow the rest of him to surface back into existence. As he became aware of his heavy panting and the water that was half-threatening to drown him, he heard Amber saying something, but he couldn't process her words. He tried to move, to speak, to command his body to do something, but all he managed was a pitiful groan and a slight twitch in his extremities.
He heard Amber's mocking laughter echo in the alley.
"Well, well, look who's awake," she said tauntingly. He heard her heels click against the concrete for a moment, then a slight pause before he felt her breath tickle his ear. "That was fun, Graverobber," she whispered; "let's do it again sometime." He felt her tongue quickly swipe the skin behind his ear, and he gave an involuntary moan at the touch.
Again, he heard her cruel laughter. "Come on, boys," she said, presumably to her bodyguards, her heels clicking on the ground again as she walked away; "I don't know if I have enough time to get cut again before the Z gathering, but it's worth checking to find out."
The Z gathering. It was supposed to happen in just a few minutes, and Graverobber hadn't even managed to pilfer a Zydrate gun from one of the tents in Sanatarium Square yet. Of all the lousy times for her to…
He gritted his teeth and forced his muscles to push him up into a sitting position, grunting from the effort. His head spun for a moment, but he held on. For a moment, he just sat there, panting, desperately trying to catch his breath and gather up the strength to get going. He tucked himself back into his clothes and re-zipped and -buckled his pants and belt. His coat, where was his coat? He looked around to see where he'd tossed it against the wall of the alley. Finding it, he tried to stand and walk over to it, but his knees refused to support him, and he stumbled and fell. He tried again, but was forced to drag himself over to his discarded uniform. He felt weak and pathetic, completely unused to his body not being able to obey the commands he gave it.
He sat leaning against the wall next to his coat, again trying to catch his breath, this time giving himself the time he needed.
"Damn you, you bitch," he muttered aloud under his breath; despite everything fucking Amber had cost him - his dignity, his self-respect, his strength, his self-control, and any value he might have ever had - it had been so incredible, he knew he would never regret it. "Damn you…"